


The Opposite of a Torture Device

by zenonaa



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Consensual Tentacles, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 03:19:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11935233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenonaa/pseuds/zenonaa
Summary: "It’s... a pleasuring machine.”With tentacles.Still, Togami will survive, and Fukawa is happy to indulge.





	The Opposite of a Torture Device

It is entirely reasonable to believe that the Remnants of Despair owned a washing machine, but Byakuya hesitates to write down that is what it is. The cube, originally white but now tinged a grimy yellow, certainly looks like a washing machine, and the circular window showcases a metal tube inside, garnished with holes like one would expect, but after Byakuya writes down that it is a washing machine, he punctuates the description with a question mark. He clicks the button on the end of his pen, causing the nib to retract, and walks over to the next piece of unidentified technology.

With only one sheet on his clipboard filled in, he still has several more to get through. Byakuya glances up. Rows upon rows of miscellaneous junk stand before him, and every time he checks, another row sprouts up at the back. Definitely several more. 

He returns his gaze to his clipboard. Words fidget on the page. Even the letters that he just wrote all stamp their feet, the question mark on the end hopping on its bottom dot. 

With a grimace, he removes his glasses, rubs his eyes with his knuckles, puts his glasses back on and then flips over the sheet to the next one, blank as blank. The next object in need of inspection is another cube, grey and slightly bigger than the washing machine, with no door or anywhere near as many dials. It bears just one. On and off. Although the cube lacks any extra switches, a remote control rests on the top, and it has two joysticks and more buttons than surely necessary.

Unlike everything else in the room, the cube seems to have been recently cleaned, like good care had been taken of it. Byakuya rotates the dial. Unsurprisingly, it does nothing. It won’t when not plugged in. Certainly not in a room with no electricity, but that won’t be an issue.

“Fukawa,” he says, tapping the end of his pen against his clipboard.

Nearby, Touko squats by a laptop plugged into a small, black case with yellow accents. His abrupt voice in an otherwise silent room almost flings her soul through her skin and into the air. She jerks her head up and turns it toward him. “Y-Yes, Byakuya-sama?”

He wags his pen a few times before looking up and pointing it at her.

“I need the power pack,” he explains.

Touko bobs her head. “Right away!”

She unplugs the power pack from the laptop and stands up. As she approaches, she casts a frown at the grey cube, swinging the power pack by the handle. 

“Plug it in,” demands Byakuya, flapping his hand toward the cube.

The socket is located at the back. While she doesn’t run, because the distance between where she stands next to him and the back of the cube requires only a few steps, she doesn’t dawdle either, striding briskly over to it. Touko drops into a crouch and plugs the cube into the power pack.

“What does it do?” she asks.

“That’s what I’m going to find out,” he replies, followed by several clicks as he fusses with the on and off switch. 

Nothing happens. Byakuya furrows his brow, sets down the clipboard and picks up the remote. Leaving the cube switched on, he tries a few buttons, and then presses a red, bulbous one.

All of a sudden, metal arms with less bulk than Touko’s arms and a lot more flexibility burst out of the cube. They lack hands, tapering off to rounded points at the ends. He counts four before one of the arms wraps itself around his middle, pinning his arms to his sides, and hoists him into the air.

The remote slips out of his hand and clacks against the floor. Touko shrieks, staring up at him.

“Don’t just stand there,” he sneers, struggling and failing to break free. On any other person, his contorted expression would be ugly. 

Biting down on her bottom lip, she takes a quavering breath and straightens up. She turns the cube off by twisting the dial, but the arm keeps him just as high. The others flail, not losing height either, so she returns to the power pack and unplugs the cube.

That turns out to be as unsuccessful as switching it off with the dial. Despite the cube not being plugged into anything, the robotic arms still quiver, like the cube just needed a surge of power to awaken it, like it is alive. All the arms exude slime, and the one holding Byakuya hostage gives his shirt a damp patch underneath where it grips him, revealed when it shifts its position a bit.

“I’ll save you,” she promises shrilly, but the buttons mystify her. She tests the largest, red one, which just squeezes the arm around him.

A gasp pops out of Byakuya.

Okay, so not that button then. Her heart thumps loudly as she experiments with the others. The arms thrash around, including the one coiled around him, though thinking about it more, they’re not so much arms as tentacles, slender and limber. She fumbles but gets the tentacles, which she decides to refer to them as, to calm down.

“What are you doing?” Byakuya snaps. He widens his stance, spreading his legs that are bent at the knees, and tries to wiggle, but the tentacle inhibits his movements.

“Um...” She darts her thumb over to one of the joysticks and twitches it downward. Rather than lowering him, like she expects, like she hopes, the tentacle reaches down the front of his trousers.

They yelp at the same time. Touko flicks the joystick upward to no apparent effect and splutters, unable to form words, and if her hold on the remote gets much harder, she might break it. 

“I’ll... I’ll...” Touko says, faltering, but the tension in her body dissolves at the sound of a groan from above.

She wavers.

“B-Byakuya-sama?” she asks.

He squints at her, still with the tentacle down his trousers, giving him the illusion of a very impressive bulge. She salivates. Just as she starts to wonder how his trousers haven’t ripped yet due to the strain, the button on his trousers pings off and the tentacle emerges out of his fly.

His eyes widen as much as they had been narrowed. Touko gapes.

“W-What sort of contraption is it?” she asks, finding it impossible to avert her gaze.

Byakuya sticks out his chin, as dignified as a man with a tentacle grappling him can be. “Everything here belongs to our former upperclassmen... It must be a torture device.”

The tentacle tightens around him and Byakuya chokes out a gasp. Touko lowers her gaze from his face to the tentacle. She realises with a jolt that sucks the air out of her that it has twined around another part of him too, and he must know as well because of how red his face has gone. Her breathing roughens into gargling at the flesh colour peeking out from the gaps in the section of tentacle looped around him, resembling a slinky and leaving the head of his penis exposed.

“I... I think it’s the opposite of a torture device,” she tells him, wringing the remote.

“What?”

She gulps. A smirk shimmers on her lips. “It’s... a pleasuring machine.”

That makes a lot of sense.

Perhaps, even too much sense.

He mouths what she just said then shakes his head. Touko examines the grey cube but doesn’t find any clues. As before, it just has a dial to turn it on and off, and currently, it is switched off. She studies the remote again and raises her eyebrows.

“‘Tentacube’,” she reads aloud from the small text at the top.

“What a ridiculous name,” says Byakuya through his teeth. 

Touko presses a button and of all the buttons, and there are a lot that she could have selected, the one her finger tapped causes the tentacle to pump his length, pulling on the skin. He hisses. She tries another, finger coming down harder this time, but the tentacle’s rhythm doesn’t change, let alone cease. It brushes its tip against his slit. 

Byakuya kicks his legs, trembling as the tentacle strokes. “T-There has to be a way to turn it off...”

His body quakes, but now, he doesn’t seem to be making as much effort to throw off the tentacle, or escape. With a rumble in his throat, he chews on his lip, squirming while the tentacle kneads his length, dragging the skin up and down for friction that has him panting and rocking into its coils.

No, he doesn’t want to escape. Not anymore.

She touches her palm against one of the tentacles. Despite its appearance, it doesn’t feel like metal. While firm, it’s somewhat spongy and wet, like foam covers the tentacles and they have been recently coated in a layer of diluted glue.

“Are you sure that you want to turn it off?” she asks coyly. 

“O-Of course I do,” Byakuya says, betrayed by his wheezes and lack of eye contact.

“Because,” her tongue catches on her teeth, showing in a smirk, but she still finishes what she intends to say, “y-you seem to be enjoying it.”

Byakuya blinks then scoffs. His legs cycle through the air slowly. “Of course I’m not enjoying this! Why, the idea... of being in such a state... with you witnessing it...!”

She locates the button that prompted the tentacle to tug on him and pins it down under her thumb. The tentacle gives his slit a final swipe, smearing the bead of precum that he has produced, before it unwinds from around his length, which has hardened enough that it doesn’t need the tentacle’s support to stand erect.

While she stopped the tentacle from playing with his length, it still hugs his middle, suspending him high in the air. Her index finger drifts over the different buttons encrusted on the remote, dense like sequins on a dress, shining like sequins on a dress, and with so many to choose from.

“Fukawa,” mumbles Byakuya. She pauses. He raises his voice. “Fukawa, reactivate that tentacle...”

Her head snaps up and her shoulders jump. “W-What did you say?”

“Press the button again,” he drawls. “We’ve established this piece of... j-junk...”

She taps the button and the tentacle clings to his junk again.

“We’ve... e-established... it’s only meant to give pleasure... Souda must have made it for Hanamura, or Tanaka or Sonia...” The tentacle caresses his slit, and he almost sings the consequent sigh. “Therefore, it won’t harm me... and if you don’t know how to turn it off... and I can’t be expected to resume my work in this condition... then we may as well, yes?”

He forces himself to look down at Touko, rather than over her head, and winces at the smile that creeps through her confusion.

“Right,” Touko simpers, flourishing the remote. “Shall we see what other functions this thing has, then?”

Byakuya nods, burning pink. 

Touko hums to herself and after a quick browse, she jabs a button with a white arrow on it that points to the right, adjacent to a circular button that separates this button from another with an arrow that points in the opposite direction. At first, it seems to have done nothing, so she fiddles with a joystick, and then she discovers that she has gained influence over a different tentacle, though not at the expense of the tentacle before. The one that picked Byakuya up initially still fondles his length, still toys with his slit, and still has him shuddering. 

Meanwhile, the other tentacle writhes as she toggles with the joystick, too much and too accurately to be a coincidence, wobbling like a child walking in their mother’s high heels for the first time. When she attempts to direct the tentacle toward Byakuya, it complies, veering over, and it stops when she releases the joystick, dancing close to him.

He watches it, eyes half-lidded. With his arms still trapped under the first tentacle, he can’t do much else. Touko clenches her teeth in concentration and twitches the joystick to the side, aiming the tentacle at him. It whips Byakuya. Though he yells out, he doesn’t sound like he is in distress, but even so, after the third time, she comprehends what is happening and stops.

She nudges the joystick again, slower and smoother this time. The tentacle doesn’t attack, petting his cheek, and he leans his head away from it, just slightly, pouting. 

Her thumb barely moves as she maneuvers the tentacle to his lips.

“What-?” Byakuya says before the tentacle pokes its tip into his opened mouth, distracting him. He tenses in surprise but soon relaxes, letting it stay inside but not letting it get far in.

It brushes its tip against his teeth that block it from going in any deeper. Like how the other tentacle functions on autopilot, still pumping his length at a leisurely pace, this tentacle doesn’t stop just because she isn’t giving it any orders. As if in anticipation, knowing what she wants, what Byakuya wants, it shrivels up to a more agreeable girth and tickles Byakuya’s gumline. 

“If you want it to stop, just strike your feet together four times,” says Touko, because as much as she loves to see him like this, she can only love it if he echoes her sentiments.

His brow creases but after the tentacle prods his teeth a few more times, he opens his mouth wider, and on its own initiative, the tentacle eases its way in.

Her eyes threaten to pop out. 

The tentacle doesn’t rush, starting slow but steady. With his tongue forced into taking shelter below, he can only flatten it against the underside of the tentacle, licking along it as it probes his moist mouth. While Byakuya familiarises with its warm, slick thickness, the tentacle grows bigger, and bolder, and its gentle bumps heighten into thrusts. 

He grunts, gags when it hits the back of his throat. It doesn’t retreat, but with its subsequent lurches, it doesn’t push all the way in. Touko can’t take her eyes off the scene, of Byakuya sucking on a tentacle as another tends to his throbbing length, like the latter is a fist and the former something else. Getting the hang of how the remote works, or just getting very, very lucky, she commands a third tentacle to deal with his belt. After it flicks against the buckle, it seems to process what needs to be done without further encouragement, and it unfastens his belt with little difficulty. 

His trousers tumble to his ankles, fabric shackles. Byakuya mumbles but keeps suction on the tentacle, chin streaked with drool from his overflowing mouth. Touko busies her hands with more buttons and other tentacles paw at his chest and soon, his shirt tears open, and two tentacles claim a nipple each. They curl, pinch and tweak, and if Byakuya could cry out, he would, but the tentacle barging into his mouth absorbs the vibrations of his moans. The tentacles on his chest are relentless. Even after his nipples burn, they refuse to stop, and Touko depends on her luck again to calm their fervour.

Whatever button it is that she clicks, it dissuades those tentacles from continuing to overstimulate him, and they loop around his pert nipples, resting, but the tentacle around his erection charges up and down, and the one in his mouth persists in having him taste its salty but slightly sweet juices, over and over.

Touko’s fingers scuttle across the buttons as she experiments with the remote. A tentacle traces over his happy trail. Another scratches at his balls. The tentacle on his length unravels and wraps around his base just once, substituting for a cockring, and other than exerting pressure, doesn’t move anymore. One lone tentacle then lurks behind him, and without provocation, it drapes itself over one of his shoulders, pressing and cradling the underside of his jaw, running its tip up his cheek like one might with the flushed face of a lover.

Well, his face is certainly the right shade for the comparison.

Using one of the joysticks, Touko glides the tentacle on his shoulder down his back. When it arrives at the top of his crack, he stiffens, but his feet remain apart as the tentacle slathers him in its lubricant by rubbing against his crevice.

The ends of Touko’s lips climb to their peak and her shoulders tremble with laughter nearly too low for human ears to discern. He throws down a questioning look, his brow raising and squishing at the same time, but she doesn’t respond, configuring the remote with hands that blur in her eagerness.

Byakuya isn’t kept in suspense for long. By now, the tentacle has soaked him in its lubricant, and it teases his hole with its tip. His breathing staggers as it edges in, impeded by his muscles that clench at the foreign object, but it enters, it enters, swallowed up. The tentacle around his middle tilts him forward so his face points down, level with the tentacle penetrating him from behind.

With his face caked in sweat, his glasses stand no chance. They slide off his nose and clack on the floor.

Touko tips her head back, eyes large with spider leg lashes. After the tentacle in his mouth rams into him a few more times, it pops out, connected only by a string of drool that swiftly collapses. Byakuya stares back at Touko, mirroring her expression, trying to act like he doesn’t have a tentacle knocking into him from behind. That tentacle withdraws to a shallower depth roughly two inches deep. It feels around and its tip pricks a spot in him, a walnut-sized knob of tissue that causes Byakuya to almost jump out of his skin when it applies more force to that area. 

He cranes his neck forward and bites on his inner cheeks. His lips buzz as the tentacle jogs into him, its motions fluid and steady, but it leaves alone that sensitive part in him. For the time being, it prioritises sheathing as much of its length in him as it can. Despite his best efforts, at the occasional thrust, Byakuya’s features pinch for as long as a blink.

The lack of unrestrained noise and minute changes on his face prompt Touko to hover her index finger over one of the joysticks.

“S-Shall I...?” Touko asks.

Byakuya grits his teeth and flaps his legs rather ungainly. Touko hunches her shoulders and twitches her finger, about to command the tentacle to pull out of him, but instead of striking his feet together four times, Byakuya pushes his toes against the heel of his other foot, removing his shoes, and after they thud against the floor, his trousers fall off easily.

She exhales and presses a different button. The tentacle around his middle grips him more snugly and the one inside of him almost pulls out entirely before sinking in again, the first in a series of faster hammering. His mouth widens into a delicious hole that Touko can’t resist, and the tentacle that he had latched onto earlier returns to his lips. 

He draws it in and lets himself be ploughed from both ends, even indulging, shoving his backside against the tentacle when it lunges into him, slobbering on the other tentacle, mouth numbing under constant bombardment. 

Retches become hums that become purring.

“M-My darling’s endurance... is unrivalled...!” Touko croons, arms locked around herself, caging in her teetering body. Saliva streams from her lips, a waterfall on her chin. Without looking at the remote, and with one hand, she patters her fingers against more buttons.

The rest of the tentacles swarm around him. Byakuya whines, muffled, as the tentacles on his nipples roll his stiff nubs to sensitivity and beyond. His lashes flutter wildly, body shunted to and fro, but as spoiled as he is by the tentacles, which ravish him to the brink of euphoria, the tentacle hooked around his length’s base blocks his main outlet for release, so the building tension in his crotch puckers into a white hot ball that gives off sparks as it bounces around. All of his senses have intensified to an almost painful degree, and his head rattles as he uses the tentacles, as they use him.

Touko waits until the edges of his world begin to disintegrate like the edge of a sheet of paper set on fire before she mashes a button on the remote. The tentacle in his behind recedes to his entrance and crooks its tip against the sensitive knob in him, swirling and slapping him there, but more importantly, the tentacle around the base of his length loosens slightly.

It jiggles his length and within seconds, the tension cramping in Byakuya’s groin area explodes, sending ripples of rapid-fire contractions through him that flood him in heat. His mind goes blank as waves of pleasure rack his body. Undeniable proof of his star-bright orgasm shoots out of his length, and the tentacles ride out the sensation with him until he has emptied himself. 

He shuts his eyes, aching all over, especially in his head, jaw and behind, but he regrets none of what happened.The tentacles lower him to the floor, lying him on his side, and untangle themselves from him.

“Byakuya-sama,” comes Touko’s voice from above.

When he tries to answer, puffs of breath burst out.

“Did you like that?” she asks, peering down at him.

Even if he could answer that, he wouldn’t. He just sees stars on the back of his eyelids.

“Because I did,” she says. “A lot.”

A tentacle wedges under his cheek and lifts his head. Byakuya blinks several times, leaving his eyes open in the end, and trails his eyes up the tentacle to Touko. She grins broadly and tucks another tentacle behind his knees, so she can bridal carry him. 

To her delight, he snuggles his head against her chest, letting her cocoon them in the tentacles attached to her body.

“You felt good,” Byakuya admits in a mumble, and somehow, their lips meet. “You feel good.”

And there they stand, Touko and her darling, with him in her nest of tentacles.

* * *

On the bedside table, the alarm clock beeps gratingly. The ceiling yawns overhead and reality gradually beams through the fog left by sleep. What just happened hadn’t actually happened. It had just been a dream. Not real. It never happened. Only in the land of imagination did it exist.

In the imagination of a secret masochist.

However, that doesn’t mean there aren’t any real life repercussions. Skin drenched in sweat, stickiness between the legs and a borderline feverish warmth says it all.

The screeches of the alarm clock pang painfully, but a whack on the top shuts the device up. Next to it, the cellphone behaves, only making noise when it connects in a call a minute later.

“... The confiscation room is on the fifth floor. Be there in one hour.”

“R-Roger that!”

“Bring baby wipes too.”

“Baby wipes...?”

“Just in case.” Byakuya hangs up and places his cellphone back next to his alarm clock. He pinches between his eyebrows and sighs.

That should be enough time to clean himself up.

**Author's Note:**

> a nsfw request from my tumblr o_o
> 
> zenonaa.tumblr.com


End file.
